


Questions

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-23
Updated: 2005-10-23
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Harry has a question to ask. Sequel to 'Decisions'.





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.

**Author's Note:** Sequel to _Decisions_.

** Questions **

Harry stared out the window. It was raining again. Still. However you wanted to term it, it hadn't stopped raining for two days. On Thursday, he had hoped it would stop by Saturday night, but it was now Saturday evening and there was no sign of the deluge letting up. This was going to ruin his plans for the setting of an outdoor restaurant.

He rested his head against the glass and sighed.

He had picked up the ring two months ago and still hadn't worked up the courage to give it to her. Ron had begun teasing him about it – that he was a great big "Hero to the Wizarding World" but couldn't ask a simple question. For Ron, it had been simple. For Harry, it was not.

Then, on the night he had selected, it was raining. Had been raining. Would still be raining. It sort of ruined the romantic outdoor proposal he had imagined. With a heavy sigh, Harry Apparated to Hermione's front door.

Before he could even knock, Hermione opened the door. Harry had to forcibly remind himself to shut his mouth instead of staring slack-jawed like Crabbe or Goyle. "You're gorgeous," he whispered hoarsely.

She had twisted her hair on top of her head, leaving tendrils framing her face. Her make-up was lightly applied and served to accentuate her eyes and lips. Tearing his eyes away from her lips, he realized that he was going to have a hard time getting through the evening, even without the ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Her dress wrapped her curves like his hands wanted to. It was a burnished gold color that skimmed her shoulders with small sleeves before dipping into a sweetheart neckline. The remainder of the dress hugged her tightly before flaring at the knees. Harry could only hope she placed a charm on the dress so she could move comfortably.

Hermione blushed. "Thank you." She stepped onto the stoop next to Harry. When she turned to lock the door with a charm, Harry caught the scent of her perfume.

He figured he must have groaned because she whipped around to ask, "Are you okay?"

He was afraid all that would come out of his mouth would be a squeak, so he merely nodded. She smiled the smile Harry thought should be outlawed.

They Apparated to the restaurant, The Blue Pelican. It was one of the most exclusive in the wizarding world and could guarantee its patrons secrecy if so desired. Getting a reservation earlier that day required Harry to use his name liberally, something he detested doing.

"Harry, I thought we were going to Plough and Stars," Hermione said questioningly.

"We were, but then it rained," he answered. With trepidation, he gave his name to the maitre'd. A sigh of relief permeated him when the maitre'd did no more than flick his eyes upward for identification before escorting them to a table.

When asked later, Harry would never remember what he and Hermione discussed that night. His memories between being seated and dessert consisted of a series of disasters.

Reaching across the table for Hermione's hand and setting fire to his sleeve. Attempting to pour a glass of wine and dropping the bottle on the floor, splashing his robes and shoes. The final straw was his attempt to refill his water glass with a charm that – in a burse of nervous magic he hadn't experienced since he was thirteen – he created a small flood.

A wave of Hermione's wand cleaned up the mess. Harry, his face flaming in embarrassment, looked up at her. She was smiling indulgently. "Harry?" she began softly. "Should we leave?"

He nodded miserably. He could only guess what the other patrons must think after having seen their savior nearly destroy his table.

He paid the bill, then assisted Hermione out of her chair. Close, he could see that not only was her smile indulgent, but she was greatly amused by him and was on the verge of laughter.

Deciding he had nothing else to lose, he stopped in the middle of the restaurant and turned toward her. He'd already made a complete ass of himself, why not top it off?

"Harry?" She sounded nervous.

He fumbled in his pocket, then dropped to one knee. Hermione's eyes went wide, tears threatening, as she covered her mouth with her right hand.

Harry grinned, suddenly feeling much more light-hearted than before. It didn't matter anymore that he was in the middle of one of the most exclusive restaurants in the wizarding world. He was with Hermione.

In a clear voice, he began, "Hermione, we've know each other since we were eleven, but you still manage to amaze me nearly everyday. I had wanted to do this outside by candlelight – which is the way you told me you dreamt of it at age sixteen – but that would be a bit damp tonight."

He took a deep breath. "Hermione Anne Granger, will you do me the honor of taking pity on a poor wizard and becoming my wife?" As if he'd been practicing, he slipped the ring onto her left hand.

Tears streamed down her face silently. She sniffed, swallowed hard and shivered.

"Get up, you git," she hissed. "Of course I'll marry you. There was never any doubt."

Harry stood and pulled Hermione into a fierce embrace. It was only then that he realized his proposal had received a standing ovation from the restaurant patrons and staff.


End file.
